


on the devil's mantle.

by webheadparker



Series: ripped from the bone. [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, Dark Will Graham, Faked Suicide, Gen, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Murder-Suicide, One-Sided Love, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Season Finale, and he's incredibly morally grey, he loves will the way a snake loves a mouse, in that there is no longer anything lawful about him, inspired by the scene with bedelia at the table in the finale, most of the characters listed are just mentioned briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webheadparker/pseuds/webheadparker
Summary: the fall,  and what happens after.' together, '  he whispers,  locked in that deadly embrace.  he's known it since the very beginning  --  their game will never end.  one cannot exist without the other,  and forever,  each will threaten to swallow the other whole.  he tightens his grip and yanks sideways.  they fall,   and fall forever,  clinging to each other until the grip is lost.his body hits first.  icy pain,  and then,  nothing.nothing but the waves.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter
Series: ripped from the bone. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793191
Kudos: 9





	on the devil's mantle.

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning. this fic contains mutilation, autocannibalism, and dark themes. there is a lot of in and out of consciousness, mentions of vomit, blood, and drowning. also, a lot of skipping around.

' together, ' he whispers, locked in that deadly embrace. he's known it since the very beginning -- their game will never end. one cannot exist without the other, and forever, each will threaten to swallow the other whole. he tightens his grip and yanks sideways. they fall, and fall forever, clinging to each other until the grip is lost.

his body hits first. icy pain, and then, nothing.

nothing but the waves.

it starts one day and it never ends. he gets too close. too close to jack, to hobbs, to hannibal. too close to abigail. he drags people down with him, alana and margot, molly and willy. they're all together in this loop and they're all losing. they keep losing. they're impaled like decorations on the devil's wall, strung up, like puppets on string. 

one day he signs his own death certificate. jack crawford comes to him for help and that day he wants to start running and never come back but the world has never much cared for him, and he knows, there is no choice but to agree. he can't say no to things. he can't deny his help. these girls are dying and that's really what seals his fate. he becomes hobbs, the father with the daughter he can't stand to lose, and never stops becoming him. a man to a monster to a man to a monster. like a snake swallowing it's own tail. he meets hannibal along the way and doesn't trust him because he doesn't trust anyone but the other man has a way of making the secrets fall from his lips and never stop. he reads will like a book, and it surprises him, because he always thought his pages were torn out and thrown in the flames.

their chess match begins the day abigail dies the very first time. it seals their fates. _see_ , hobbs had said, **_see_**. it's taken him so long to understand it but god does he see now. they keep coming at each other but the battle is destined to stalemate. 

his lungs burn. sometimes, he opens his eyes, and they too burn. the lights are too bright and he's burning. everything is burning. he ought not be surprised, though, if this is hell. will graham expects nothing less. the man chokes and gags against the crackling flames and wonders if hannibal has followed him here, too. 

hannibal writes the rules, that much is for certain, and he writes the script. he's an author full of spite for his own creation. she dies and dies again to spite the hero of the story who becomes less and less the hero as the days go by. the teacup will always shatter but the pieces become more and more fractured that nobody can put it back together. the author steals things because he is greedy and selfish. injecting his venom into the words on paper, the story taints, morality becomes extinct.

it's why mason verger becomes so enamored. hannibal empties hell. pulls the strings. it's why dolarhyde wins and then loses, why they've got people in their bellies, souls haunting them like ghosts.

the voice calls from above in harmony with another. two demons come to rip him from his inferno, they speak his name, and for some reason it sounds like music. his nose is filled with the scent of something warm and juicy and so, so familiar. graham's body spasms and bile rises in his throat. ' calm, will, you don't want to aspirate. ' he chokes, vomits again, falls back against the hard surface.

' why didn't you let him die? ' _oh_. 

' he didn't want me to die. ' **_oh_**.

one day, in the years between, will graham answers the phone. behind him, molly is singing softly, dropping potatoes into oil for their dinner. he loves their little family more than this life. the phone rings and he answers it. nobody speaks on the other end but he knows who it is by the music in the background. perhaps he'd have known just by the silence. ' hello, ' he says, and there's nothing but they sit for a moment to listen to it just the same. it's an almost comforting reminder that they're still aware of each other, though, equally horrifying because the number changes every six months and it's unlisted. a reminder indeed, one that says; **don't get too comfortable**. he hangs up the phone. ' spam caller, ' he tells his wife. ' damned leeches. '

he looks down at his hands and they're covered in blood. there are no potatoes in oil, not in this kitchen, anyway. the room smells like copper and he collapses in a familiar pool of blood. he knows that this is a nightmare. the sun is shining outside in this version and it certainly wasn't that night. his blood isn't mixing with abigail's but with molly's and jack's and marot's and alana's. corpses in a kitchen, cattle in a butcher shop, pawns in a game.

the air is stolen from his lungs and he shoots up in place, sweating profusely. the room is dimly lit. across from him is a ghost staring back, blonde and lovely, all glow and forked tongue. she smirks at him. the scene is all wrong, she's missing pieces, and he pukes again at the sight. ' bedelia, ' he whispers hoarsely.

' hello, mr. graham. we were starting to think you were gone forever. ' the woman sounds sour about it, as if inconvenienced, and it confuses him. ' hannibal is preparing dinner. relax, will. you'll hurt yourself. '

' what happened to you? ' he asks. she's missing both legs and they're freshly bandaged.

' we were out of meat. i made the first myself, but it went to waste when hannibal did not return. i fear i may have undercooked it and it spoiled in the night. '

his head spins. the news, truly, does not surprise him -- but still, his eyes roll back in his head, and it's darkness that greets him this time.

time passes, though, he's unclear on how much. he resurfaces and he's clean this time. the lights are still dim and the scent of dinner is even thicker on the air. someone new sits across from him, and it takes a long moment to realize, oh. it's hannibal. ' remarkable, ' the cannibal whispers, ' remarkable boy. ' his voice is warm and fond. ' i must admit, i was very worried. you took the fall much harder than i did and i wondered for a very long time if you could recover. '

' where is dr. du maurier? ' his voice is low and hoarse. hannibal smiles.

' she waits for us at the dinner table. '

will looks down at himself, suddenly alarmed, checking that he's still intact. he finds that he has been dressed in slacks and a button up and realizes a moment later that he can still faintly smell soap. blue eyes return to the cannibal's face. 

' come, will. before it gets cold. '


End file.
